houseworkguy
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Joined: 3/6/2005
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Work Shoes
I found out her name was Veronica by getting into the elevator behind her one day, and seeing what floor she left on. I walked around her floor another day, until I saw what office she worked in and I saw her name on the door. She is incredibly sexy and beautiful. I used to stare at her when she wasn't looking, whenever I saw her walk by in the hallways, and I would get completely turned on. I wanted to just walk up to her and fall to my knees, and beg her to please use me any way she'd like, I'd do whatever she asked if I could just spend more time in her presence.
But, it was where I worked, and I really thought I had never let her see me looking at her too much. But I would think about her constantly, and fantasize. I wondered what would happened if she knew how much I wanted to be hers, how I wanted to serve her and follow her commands. I would imagine that I was going to tell her, and I would get so turned on I'd have to walk quickly in to the men's room, into a stall, and begin stroking myself. I would quickly have the most intense orgasms.
After a while I wanted to come like that more and more, but it wasn't enough to just imagine that I told her what she could do with me if she wished. I found that I needed to take small steps towards actually letting her know, before I could cum like that again. Eventually I began an email message to send to her. Soon I finished it, but I knew I shouldn't send it. But writing it made my cock rock hard for her again, and I practically came in my pants, in my office with the door wide open. That day I beat off right in my office, stroking myself like crazy before I came all over my hands.
Finally, one day I decided I might send it. First I got it all ready. It read:
Veronica,
You don't know me, but I guess you would call me your secret admirer. I'm writing to tell you how beautiful and sexy you are. I'm a white male that works here in the same building you do. I'm sorry to be so secretive about this, but I didn't know how you might respond to this email. I think you might remember me, as I have smiled at you (nervously) as we walked by in the halls, but we have never spoken. (Although I'm sure your days are just filled with men watching you when you walk by, and smiling at you and trying to start up a conversation.)
I want you to know that you turn me on incredibly. But here is why I'm not signing my name to this email this time. I didn't know how you would react to this, but I desire you so much that I would love to show it by serving you. Whatever you asked or demanded of me, I would do, just for the pleasure and excitement of communicating with you and receiving your commands. I understand that I am not that unusual in being this way. I guess I am what is called a submissive male, although in my job and the rest of my life I am nothing like that. If this is not too unusual for you, or even a possible turn-on, as I understand it is for some women, I'd be glad to tell you more. But if not, just let me know, or just don't answer this email, and I won't bother you again. By the way, I'm in good shape, good looking I suppose, tall and in my 30's.
- Your secret admirer
I was going to send it using this anonymous email account I had. Once I had it all ready, all I had to do is click the "send" button. I got so hot sitting there, just one mouse click from taking that chance. Finally, I just kind of closed my eyes and did it, knowing I might be causing myself all kinds of troubles, maybe even endangering my job. Hopefully, if she found it too creepy, she would just ignore it, and I would have to sense to forget about it myself…
I received a reply in about a day. I read simply:
Who are you? Where do you work? V.
I wrote back and said "I don't think I should let you know who I am, unless I know that you are not upset that I used the company email to send you that message." By this time I was thinking about her practically every minute of the day, and walking around hard almost every moment. She wrote back that she didn't mind. She said "I understand men pretty well I think, you are not that unusual." In this next message she seemed to back off of trying to get me to identify myself. "Tell me what kind of work do you." she concluded. The demanding tone of the statement made me wild. I felt weak, and excited.
We sent a few emails back and forth, and I told her a little about myself, and my fantasies, but not enough, I didn't think, so she could identify me. I did begin to worry that she had already figured out who I was, though. Maybe I had stared at her a little to long one time when she walked by. Maybe not that many men watched her so closely as I did. She did have a look that was different from what a lot of men seem to think is perfect, although it was definitely perfect to me. She was a black goddess, with beautiful complexion and hair, and a full, voluptuous figure. I wanted her so badly I could barely stand it. I began to get afraid that I ever found myself in an elevator with her, she would know it was me that was writing to her, just by how my breath would come faster, and my instant hard-on would show through my pants.
Finally, one day she sent me an email that changed everything. It read, "There is a bag under the phone at the back exit of the building. Go get it, and be someplace private with it at 4:00pm today." I nervously picked up the paper bag, hidden under the phone, after checking over my shoulder to make sure no-one was watching me. I brought it back to my office. In it was a note, and a cell phone. The note read: "I will call you at 4:00, be ready. Don't worry, I won't ask you to say anything, so you can keep your silly little 'secret identity'".
The phone rang right at 4. I pressed the talk button, and she began right away. "I've been thinking about you", she began. "Obviously, I'm willing to play your little game, at least for a while. You had better get that phone back to me when I ask for it, do you understand? Tap your fingernail against the mouthpiece twice if you understand me." I did as she demanded. "Good", she continued. "Now, the first thing I am going to do is give you a little gift. You might wonder why I am being so generous right away, but that is for me to know. What I want you to do is this. Put the phone in your pocket, and walk to the men's room right now. I expect you to be there in 1 minute. When you are there, stop at the mirror, and put a little soap into your right hand. Then go into a stall, pull down your pants, sit down, and wait for more instructions from me on the phone. Is that clear?" I tapped on the phone twice again. "Hurry now", she said.
I did as I was told. I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. I was so turned on and consumed with desire for her, and desire to please her, and obey her orders.
By the time I sat down, my cock was straight and hard. I held the phone to my ear with my left hand, and waited with the liquid soap in my right. One minute after she gave me my instructions in my office, she came back on the line. "Okay, little slut. I can call you that, can't I? Say no if you don't want me to call you that", she laughed, knowing that I would not make a sound. "Good, good. Little slut, reach under your shirt and play with your nipples. Make them hard, like your cock is. I know your cock is hard. I know a lot of things", she said. This made me nervous, that maybe she knew who I was, but I couldn't stop. It was obvious she definitely knew how to take control of a submissive man. "Now, stroke your cock and cum for me, slut." I grabbed my cock with my right hand and began sliding the soap up and down it. "That's a good little slut", she continued. It was all I could do to keep from moaning out loud, but I knew I should not even let her hear that much of my voice. Finally, I think I did let out a little noise of my breath, as I began to cum. At that moment, I thought I heard the door to the bathroom open. I froze and stopped my frenzied stroking, and I listened. I didn't hear anyone walk in, like I expected to. I was trying to be completely quiet, by she had brought me too close to coming, and suddenly I could tell I was going to climax. I wasn't moving my hand, but I was still holding my hard cock with my soapy, slippery hand, and every tiniest movement I made sent more waves of pleasure through me. I couldn't stop from coming. I sat that there with my eyes tightly shut, as my cum shot out of my cock. Right when I was finished, I heard the door swing closed again. It was as if someone had just opened the door a little and stood there and listened to what they could hear in the bathroom, which scared me. Did she already know who I was? I convinced myself that it was just a coincidence, but I didn't know.
After I calmed down, I listened again to the phone. She said "You came, didn't you, little slut? That's a good girl. I have to go arrange some things now, but I will be in touch with you. Check your email at 9am and 4pm every day. Goodbye." I hung up the phone and slipped it in my pocket, then tried to clean myself up a little. My orgasm had left me shaking with pleasure and relief. Why did she do that? Could I trust her? What if I told her who I was, would she get me fired? Was this all a trick to get me to identify myself to her? I didn't know.
The next day, I checked my special email account, and there was a note from her. My heart began racing as soon as I saw the "1 new message" indicator. I opened the message. It read simply, "I have a surprise for you today."
For the rest of the day, I was checking my email every few minutes. I barely got any work done. All I could do is think about her, and shift around and fidget at my seat, because my cock was so hard and wouldn't stop being that way. By 4 o'clock I was going crazy, but I still hadn't heard from her. Finally, I got a call on my regular office phone, and it was her! My ears were ringing and I was scared silly, I could barely hear what she was saying. I had to ask her to repeat herself, and I may have even stammered when I realized it was her calling me directly. Then I realized she was calling me just as another person needing help with her computer. (That's my job, computer support.) I said I'd be right by to take a look at the problem she was having with her computer.
As I walked to her office, my mind was racing. She had to know it was me, didn't she? Or was it just another coincidence? What if she had stood there with the bathroom door held open before, and listened to me cum? I knew I might be in trouble here, but it was my job to help everyone in this area with their computers, so I knew I had to go there…
I got to her office and she was completely detached and professional. (And she looked stunning, as always. I have always been so turned on by a beautiful, confident black woman in a sexy business suit.) She described the problem with the computer, as if we had never met before, which of course we supposedly hadn't. I played along. After I sat down at her machine, she said she had an errand to run and that she would be back soon.
I started trying to figure out what was wrong with the PC. It looked like it was going to take a little time to fix. The offices and halls were starting to clear out, as it was getting late-I was the last one left in her office as far as I could tell. A few minutes later, her phone rang in my pocket. I seriously considered not answering it. She could be watching me right now from somewhere, or have a friend watching me, and then she would know for sure who I was, if she didn't already know. But finally I said what the hell, she must already know, and if she was going to try to get me busted for sending that first email on work time, I doubt that she would have asked me to work on her computer like this. I pulled out the phone and turned it on.
The line was silent. I waited a moment, but then I couldn't help myself, I said hello. My voice came out in a kind of squeak at first, I was so turned on and scared. She said "Well hello Walter, my little slut." She paused to let that sink in. "Here is what I want you to do. It is a small thing, you can do this for me, after all I have done for you. Take off your shoes. If your shoes and socks aren't off by the time I call back in 3 minutes, I'll never talk to you again." Then she hung up.
I've never been so turned on. I didn't hesitate at all. I kept my feet under her desk as much as I could, so that if someone were to happen to walk by, I could hide my feet under her desk, and go on working on her computer. It felt weird, sitting at a strange desk at work in my bare feet. I felt very vulnerable, almost like I was walking around naked. I looked around her desk, and there was a picture of her there. I think that was when I lost any last bit of control that I might have had. She owned me now. I could barely even pretend to work on her computer any more, I just sat there with my hard-on, staring at that picture, and waiting for her call.
"Hello?" I said, when she rang back. Her voice was commanding, and the sexiest I had ever heard. "Here is the last thing I'll ever *ask* of you, Walter." I definitely noticed how she emphasized "ask". Was she saying that from then on, everything else would be demands and orders? I was helpless to resist. "There is a paper bag under my desk at your feet. Take the shoes out and put them on." She hung up.
I glanced around and then opened the bag and had a look. It was a pair of strap-on high-heels. I thought I was going to cum in my pants right then. If she had been in the room, I think I would have fallen to my knees at her feet, and begged to be her sex slave, even if there was other people still working late around the office. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as I put them on, but my hands were shaking, so finally I had to just lean all the way over under her desk and strap them on. The straps wouldn't pull through the buckle very smoothly, I had to struggle with it a little, but I thought then that it was just because of my unsteady hands.
I felt completely owned and captured as I sat there with my feet under the desk. I didn't even try to pretend to work on the computer, I just sat and waited. It was all I could do to not stroke my cock through my jeans.
Finally, she arrived back at the door. She came inside her office, holding something behind her back that I couldn't see. She shut the door and smiled, and began to speak.
"Here's the deal, my little slut Walter. Your cock controls you, and I control your cock, so that puts me in charge, don't you think? Here is what you are going to do. Go stand by the far side of my office, away from the door. Take off your shirt, and pull your pants half-way down. You are going to let me take a picture of you like that." She stood there and waiting for my reaction. I didn't know what to do. This seemed like too much. I pushed back away from her desk, beginning to panic. This seemed like it was going too far, too fast. I began to try to take off the shoes, but the buckles would not come undone-I was practically clawing at them. She just smiled. "Sorry slut, but it won't be that easy to back out now. Didn't you notice anything a little sticky on the straps of those high-heels when you put them on? It's called contact cement. Those shoes aren't coming off with anything short of strong scissors, I'm afraid. Now, if you don't stop resisting me, and go stand in that corner, I'm going to scream. People will come running into this office to see what the problem is, and you will be standing there in my high-heels, like the little slut-boy that you are. I will tell them that I left my office to let you work on my computer, just like I did, and then I came back and found out that you had tried on my shoes! You don't want that to happen, do you Walter? Of course not. There you go, now face me and do as I told you."
I knew she had won. I couldn't run at her, because I could barely walk in those shoes, and she was on the other side of the office. I couldn't try to quickly pull the shoes off; I could tell when I tried before that they were really stuck. And I definitely couldn't run out of her office like that. I knew that I had no choice but to obey her commands.
I put my shirt on the desk next to me. When I pulled my pants down, my cock sprang straight out towards her. "Oooh, you are big", she cooed. "Now don't let your pants fall all the way down, I want to be able to see your shoes", she continued. She paused a moment, then pulled her hands out from behind her back. She put a camera down on the table next to her, and then she walked over to me with something else in her hand. She handed me a red silk teddy, and told me to put it on. "You will want to pull it down over your head", she said. "If you tried to step into it with those shoes on and your pants half-way down, I think maybe you'd fall completely over in a loud crash. Don't hesitate now, you don't have *any* choice."
I knew she was right. I pulled the silk over my head. I felt completely owned and controlled. I had a sudden vision of me at her house. I saw myself standing at her sink wearing that same teddy, trying to wash the dishes as fast as I could, as she smacked my ass with a paddle and told me to hurry. I knew it would not be long before that vision came true. My cock was harder than it had ever been, which let her know that, as much as I might have started to resist, I wanted her to own me like this more than anything. I was in heaven.
She stepped back and said, "Now smile!" and picked up the camera. I'm afraid it probably wasn't much of a smile, because I was so nervous, and weak with desire for her. With one last laugh and saying, "Oh, this is going to be fun", she stepped towards the door with the camera in her hand. "I'm just going to go hide this in a friend's desk until I can find a better place for it. I'll be back in a minute, and we can get started teaching you the rules. There are scissors in the drawer over there, you can cut the straps on the shoes while I am gone. Go to your office, close it up, and meet me back here in 10 minutes. And prepare yourself, my little slut," she said, "you won't be back to your own place for at least a couple of days. I have work for you to do."
end
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